


Springtime

by StarkRogers



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (Downey films), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Exhibitionism, M/M, Spring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-24 20:41:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1616372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarkRogers/pseuds/StarkRogers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Copyright: This is an original work of fiction. Sherlock Holmes is public domain, making this piece of work legally mine. You may not reproduce or publish this work on any site or in any journal or any other form of media without my permission. </p><p> </p><p>Holmes is grumbling that Watson has all of the windows in the flat open to air out the rooms. Watson decides to fix it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Springtime

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tabbystardust](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tabbystardust/gifts).



> This work is inspired by my wonderful friend, Tabbystardust (here on Ao3!!) Tabby made amazing artwork and I just had to write a fic for it! [Go check it out! ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1616120)

A gentle breeze flows in through the open window, ruffling Holmes’ deep brown hair. The temperature was finally warm enough outside for the inhabitants of 221 B to open the windows and relax their clothes to shirts without vests or jackets. The sweet fresh scent of spring flowers perfumes their rooms. Watson is grateful for the weather, but Holmes of course can only complain.

“Your bothersome breeze is scattering my notes,” he’d said that morning.

“Pollen is contaminating my ash samples!” That was noon.

“I cannot hear this phonograph with the carriages outside clattering by,” he’d said just a moment ago, and Watson was done with his whining.

The doctor stands from his armchair settled in by the window and walks to Holmes’ work bench, placing his hands on Holmes’ shoulders.

“Take a break from your work and come to the bedroom for a moment. I need to show you something.”

Curiosity was a strong weapon against Holmes, and as Watson walks away, Holmes stands with a grumble to follow. Once inside the bedroom Watson leads Holmes to the bed, where fresh white linens are being warmed in the cool yellow sunlight filtering in through the open window. Watson turns, unbuttoning his shirt and quirking an eyebrow at Holmes. Holmes sighs and rolls his eyes, turning to leave the bedroom again, but Watson grabs his arm.

“Do humor me for a few more moments,” Watson says, pulling Holmes back towards him.

“I have important matters to attend to,” Holmes protests, but he lets himself be dragged down onto the bed. Watson smiles and kisses Holmes, their lips meeting. Holmes indulges him for a few minutes, and slowly Watson divests them both of their clothes, until they’re laying naked on the soft white sheets, the sunlight playing over their skin. Watson sits up, Holmes in his lap and embraces him, kissing Holmes again as their groins press together down below.

Holmes gasps softly against Watson’s lips and rocks their hips together. Watson laughs and licks along the taut line of Holmes’ neck, nipping gently at the tendons. Holmes moans but Watson quiets him with two fingers against his mouth.

“Ah ah, old cock… the window is open. Can’t scandalize the common folk below.”

Holmes sucks Watson’s fingers into his mouth and then stares at the doctor for a moment.

“Is that your game?” he asks, a bit hoarsely. Watson just grins and runs his fingers through Holmes’ hair, watching the breeze play with it.

“Why yes, it is.”

“Mad fool,” Holmes mutters, bending his head to kiss Watson again. His mouth parts with a soft gasp as Watson’s fingers press inside him, and he gives a desperately quiet moan, resting his forehead against Watson’s shoulder. He tries to smother his moans of pleasure in the flesh of Watson’s neck by kissing him. Watson’s fingers work their way inside bit by bit, and Holmes rocks above him, bracing himself with one hand behind his hips on Watson’s thigh.

Finally Watson pulls his fingers free, and Holmes is panting, his chest glistening with a fine sheen of sweat in the warm sunlight. Watson brushes the sweat-dampened hair from Holmes’ face, and presses up inside him. Holmes’ head falls back, his mouth falling open with a silent cry of pleasure, his eyebrows drawn tightly together with the effort of staying quiet.

Watson moves inside him, and for a few moments their movements are silent and synchronized, until quiet, desperate moans break from Holmes’ mouth despite his efforts. Watson watches with awe as Holmes rocks above him, his hips speeding up as their pleasure grows. Watson presses his mouth to Holmes’ chest, running his tongue over a nipple and Holmes whimpers, managing to stay quiet but only just. Watson bites, just a bit, tightening his teeth over that tender flesh, and Holmes comes with a ragged moan, bucking in Watson’s lap, covering it with his release.

Panting, Holmes slumps against Watson, who pulls them both back down against the bed. Holmes slips off him, and then reaches down between them, taking Watson in hand.

“Ah—”

“I thought the rule was to be quiet?” Holmes asks wryly, pulling his hand away for a moment.

“For God’s sake Holmes,” Watson pants, “I’m so close, just please—”

Holmes laughs and licks his palm before taking him back into his hand, pumping slowly at first and speeding up as Watson’s hips buck to meet his hand.

“Ah- ah-“

Holmes pulls Watson’s mouth towards his own with his free hand, swallowing his moans and gasps of pleasure, silencing him with his tongue just as Watson had silenced him minutes ago, until with a gasping cry he too comes, shuddering in Holmes’ hand, his release joining Holmes’ in wetting his bare stomach. Holmes settles down beside him, and for a few minutes they simply rest and recover.

Watson reaches to the bedside table and rummages for a handkerchief to clean himself off with as Holmes slips his clothes back on.

“If I had known open windows would tempt you to such deviancy I would never have complained,” Holmes says with a smirk.

“If you had not complained, I never would have been tempted,” Watson retorts as he buttons up his shirt. They both chuckle at that, and by the time they return to the sitting room they look proper, as if nothing had happened at all.

But, Holmes does not complain about the open windows after that day.


End file.
